When Night Closes in

by Iris Gower

  ‘Go on, tuck in,’ Sally said, ‘the food is delicious, we should come here more often.’

  Lowri ate a little of her salad roll. Her head was aching and all she could think of was Lainey with a beautiful policewoman.

  ‘Why don’t you go to the loo?’ Sally asked. Lowri looked at her, puzzled by the turn the conversation had taken.

  ‘I don’t particularly want to.’

  ‘Well, I’m just suggesting it because Lainey and the woman are now sitting at a table near the door – if you go to the loo you can have a good look at her.’

  Lowri hated herself for listening to Sally but curiosity got the better of her. She dabbed her mouth with the thick paper napkin and smoothed down her skirt. ‘Aye, why not?’ She smiled. ‘I think I do want to go, after all.’

  They were talking, heads close together. Funny, Lainey had always given the impression he was alone. He did not see her as she passed the table and Lowri was relieved. She had a feeling that DI Lainey would know exactly what she was up to.

  In the ladies’ room Lowri stared at her reflection, thinking how pale and uninteresting she looked. She was not a beautiful woman but she liked to think she had some degree of sex appeal. Now even that seemed to have gone. Was that because she had seen Lainey with another woman?

  ‘You jealous cow!’ she told her reflection.

  When she returned to the lounge bar, the table where Lainey had been sitting was empty. Lowri hurried back across the room and flopped into her seat looking down at her watch.

  ‘We should be getting back to work, you seem to have finished your lunch.’

  Sally patted her flat stomach. ‘Enjoyed every morsel. Good pie that, you should have tried it.’ She picked up her bag and jacket. ‘Right then, back to the grind.’

  As they left the Queens and walked the short distance to the office, Lowri was silent. Sally kept glancing at her as though unsure what to say. ‘Has that copper upset you?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Right.’ Sally pushed open the door to the office and walked inside. ‘It’s colder in here than it is outside,’ she remarked.

  Mrs Jenkins was busy with clients – the small reception area seemed to strain at the seams whenever there were more than a couple of people in it. She glanced up as Lowri walked past the desk.

  ‘There was a call for you,’ she said. ‘I wish you would not have private calls which I have to deal with.’

  ‘I don’t usually have private calls at all,’ Lowri said. ‘Perhaps it’s an emergency. Was it my mother by any chance?’

  ‘No it was not.’ Mrs Jenkins’s eyes narrowed. ‘It was from a man, a Mr Brandon.’

  Lowri stopped short. ‘Say that again.’

  Mrs Jenkins looked at her in surprise. ‘I’ve got enough to do, can’t you see that? It was a Mr Brandon.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m not in the habit of taking the wrong information,’ Mrs Jenkins said huffily.

  ‘Did you take his number? It’s urgent.’

  ‘No, he didn’t offer it and I didn’t ask.’

  Lowri picked up the phone. Mrs Jenkins took it back from her and replaced it, frowning disapprovingly. ‘No good trying 1471, there have been at least six calls since then.’

  Lowri went into her office and sat down. ‘What do you think, Sally?’ she said, feeling bemused. ‘When we were out Jon phoned and that fool of a woman didn’t take his number. I could cheerfully kill her!’

  ‘Jon phoned?’ Sally’s eyes widened. ‘Jon Brandon phoned?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Lowri said, ‘the inimitable vanishing man phoned and I don’t know where I can get hold of him.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I could have cleared the whole thing up if I had been able to talk to him.’

  ‘Well you could knock me down with a feather!’ Sally stared at her. ‘Perhaps it’s a hoax.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Mr Watson, see what he has to say.’ Lowri took off her jacket and put it over the chair. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Mr Watson was alone in his office. He looked up and smiled as Lowri opened his door. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute, Mr Watson?’ she asked.

  ‘Come in. Of course you can talk to me any time, Lowri, you know that. Sit down and for goodness’ sake relax, you look all wound up.’

  ‘The receptionist, Mrs Jenkins, she said I’d had a phone call while I was out.’ Lowri swallowed. ‘She said it was from a Mr Brandon. Is there any way I can check that?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Mr Watson took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair. ‘But I don’t think it would help. After all, people call from mobile phones, from call-boxes, from hotels and public houses, don’t they?’

  He was right. Lowri shook her head. ‘I just wish I’d been here! I could have found out what’s going on once and for all.’

  ‘It could be a coincidence,’ Mr Watson said. ‘There are possibly several hundred people called Brandon living hereabouts.’

  ‘It would be a very strange coincidence, wouldn’t it?’ Lowri said. ‘Even supposing you’re right, why ask specially for me?’

  ‘Look, my dear, put the whole thing out of your head,’ Mr Watson said. ‘I think you are worrying too much about all this. Let the police sort it out, it’s their job after all.’

  ‘But they suspect me of all sorts of things, colluding with Jon to move money about for one. I think they might believe I’ve done away with him so that I can have everything.’ She rubbed her face. ‘I just wish I’d been here to take the call.’

  ‘Leave everything to me,’ Mr Watson said. ‘I’ll get onto the phone company, see what I can find out.’

  Lowri sighed with relief. ‘Thank you, Mr Watson.’ She moved to the door and paused, her hand on the knob. ‘Mr Watson, were you and my stepfather ever friends?’

  His white eyebrows rose to his receding hairline. ‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘We both fell in love with the same woman.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Go on, now, back to work.’ Mr Watson waved his hand at her. ‘All that is old history, water under the bridge.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘No buts, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Lowri nodded. ‘All right, but as soon as I get the chance I’m going to ask my mother all about you.’

  ‘You’d better not do it in Charles’s hearing. The man is extremely possessive of her, you must know that.’

  ‘I do.’ Lowri opened the door. ‘Thanks for the chat, Mr Watson, it’s been most illuminating.’

  As she crossed the hall to her own office, Lowri heard Mrs Jenkins talking on the phone. ‘Yes, Mrs Brandon, I’ll pass your message on.’

  Reception was empty and Lowri stood in the doorway staring at Mrs Jenkins. ‘Another call for me?’

  ‘No, not for you,’ Mrs Jenkins said smugly. ‘Actually, Mrs Sarah Brandon wanted me to give Mr Watson a message. Sorry, it’s confidential.’

  Lowri felt like slapping the woman. ‘Thanks!’ she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  Mrs Jenkins was equally sarcastic. ‘You are more than welcome.’

  Lowri went into the back office and closed the door sharply. Sally looked up at her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing new, just that Mrs Jenkins has been sent to try me, I’m convinced of it.’ She sat at her desk and closed her eyes. ‘Do you know something, Sally? This has been one hell of a day. Won’t I be glad when it’s over!’

  12

  Lainey stared at the piece of paper Sergeant Brown had just put on his desk. He picked it up and moved to the window where the light was better – he really should get himself a pair of glasses.

  ‘Interesting.’ He rubbed his hand over his chin; he needed a shave. ‘Very interesting.’ Someone had used Jon Brandon’s credit card to take cash out of a bank in Bristol yesterday. It was a possible lead; it might mean that Brandon was still alive. It just might mean that someone else, his wife or possibly his girlfriend, knew Brandon’s pin number and was not afraid to use
it. Or perhaps it was one of those random attempts at theft that came up every day.

  Still, Lainey felt a prickle of excitement. The bank, if large enough, would have a security camera; he must get someone to ring Bristol and have it checked out. He returned to his desk and opened the file on Brandon. Slipping the sheet of paper inside, Lainey felt he might be on the verge of a breakthrough.

  So far, he had made one stride forward and two back. When he had felt he was unravelling the mystery, further evidence appeared that tangled everything up again. Now, just maybe, he would find something positive.

  He tried to think the situation out logically. That was easier said than done when Lowri’s face kept popping into his mind. Lainey made a determined effort to concentrate. Shortly before his disappearance, Brandon had been abroad on business, apparently importing and exporting goods – goods declared as computer software. Was that a cover for something more sinister?

  The legitimate business Brandon owned was flourishing, the profit moderately good. And there was a stack of money in the Software International account, money that, in the event of Brandon’s continued absence, presumably would go to Lowri Richards.

  Lainey ran his hands through his hair. Jon Brandon was an enigma and so was his wife. Sarah Brandon had been left a fortune by one of her parents, so why did her husband find it necessary to get involved in crime? If indeed any crime had been committed.

  Lainey sank into his chair and leaned over his desk. He was getting nowhere. It might be a good idea to start at the very beginning again and work his way chronologically towards the point of the man’s disappearance, perhaps his demise.

  He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes, running the cast of characters in the drama through his mind. The list was limited, he had to recognize that. True, Mrs Brandon had a motive, she was the wronged wife, but then so did Lowri; if she had learned he was married she stood to gain everything, revenge and Brandon’s money. The phone rang. Lainey answered it. It was Lowri.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you, Inspector,’ she said. He paused, staring at the receiver as if it could answer all his questions.

  ‘About the case, was it?’ He was aware he sounded like a pompous arse but Brown might come back into the office at any moment.

  ‘Well, no, not really.’ Lowri sounded wistful.

  ‘Can I call you back?’ he found himself saying. ‘I’ve rather a lot on at the moment. Perhaps I could ring you later?’

  The line went dead and he knew she had seen through him. He felt like a heel but he could not become emotionally involved with a material witness, however beautiful she was. It was some time before Lainey could force his thoughts back to the case in hand. The one glaring fact remained: Lowri had a lot to gain from Brandon’s disappearance.

  ‘Sod it!’ It all came back to her. ‘All roads lead to Rome.’

  ‘First sign, sir.’ Sergeant Brown was standing in the doorway. ‘Of madness.’

  He smiled. ‘Just thinking out loud, Sergeant.’

  ‘Don’t do too much of it or men in white coats will be coming to cart you off!’

  ‘Everything points to Lowri Richards,’ he said. ‘But it all seems too pat. What do you make of her, Sergeant?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. She was definitely shocked when we showed her Brandon’s clothes. My gut instinct is she doesn’t know any more than we do.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, that’s my opinion anyway.’

  ‘Mine too but I haven’t any other leads, have I?’

  ‘My guess is that he’s still alive, he’s done a Lord Lucan,’ the sergeant said. ‘You know, run off, disappeared. Perhaps things were getting too hot for him here.’

  ‘I get your drift,’ Lainey said, his tone heavy with irony. ‘He vanished, leaving behind a young woman who he must have known would be our main suspect in a serious fraud, if nothing else.’

  ‘Do you think you’re getting too personally involved in all this, guv?’ Brown said mildly, echoing Lainey’s own feelings.

  Lainey looked up. ‘Probably, but then I can’t handle a case any other way.’

  ‘Especially when there’s a pretty woman in volved?’

  ‘It’s not like you to be arch, Brown.’

  ‘I’m not being arch, I’m being blunt. Whatever Lowri Richards has got, you fell for it hook, line and sinker, and I for one don’t blame you.’

  Lainey pushed aside the file and stood up. He would go and talk to Lowri again, go through the whole thing from beginning to end. There might just be something, somewhere, some vital clue that he’d missed. But first he would drive over to Bristol, see what he could learn at the bank. When he returned, he would see Lowri.

  ‘Coming, Sergeant? We’re going to Bristol ourselves. You can drive.’

  The phone rang and Brown picked it up. ‘Hang on, guv,’ he said. ‘Seems Jon Brandon has turned up at Heathrow! Just in from Jamaica, according to his passport. Good thing you asked major airports to look out for him, sir.’

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ Lainey said.

  ‘Where are we going, sir?’

  ‘To Heathrow, where else?’

  ‘What about Bristol?’

  ‘If Jon Brandon has just arrived from Jamaica he could hardly have been in Bristol yesterday.’ Lainey smiled. ‘This could just be the break-through we’ve been looking for.’

  When Terence Watson made his way into the back office he saw that Lowri was leafing through a pile of documents. He smiled – she really was a lovely girl.

  ‘How are you getting on with the new receptionist?’ he asked. ‘She’s efficient enough, don’t you think?’ He leaned over her desk, his glasses slipping down his nose and resting against his plump cheeks. He pushed them back; he needed new glasses. He also needed to lose weight.

  ‘Oh, yes, she’s very efficient, I’ll give her that,’ Lowri said. She smiled up at him and she was alarmingly like her mother, beautiful and yet without the arrogance that Rhian Richards carried with her like a cloak.

  ‘I still think you are wasted in an office, you know,’ he said, resisting the urge to touch her silky hair. ‘I would very much like you to take up your studies again, my dear.’

  ‘So would my mother.’ She shrugged. ‘But even if I wanted to go back, how could I find the money?’ She thought of mentioning the sums put into her account, but Mr Watson spoke again.

  ‘You could get a grant like everyone else, Lowri, and you know you’d have a place here when you qualified.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Mr Watson, but haven’t you heard, the Government has cut student grants to below a survival rate, let alone a living one. It’s borrow now and pay back later. I couldn’t afford it, Mr Watson. In any case, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to college, not full time.’ She smiled. ‘Though I might think of going to night classes and doing IT.’

  ‘IT?’

  ‘Information Technology. It’s certainly something that really interests me, it’s something I should have done long ago.’

  He saw the enthusiasm in her green eyes and smiled involuntarily. ‘Yes, this computer stuff does rather seem to be the way forward. I’m too old a dog to learn new tricks, I suppose, but you, my dear Lowri, have a lifetime before you.’ He allowed himself to rest his hand on her shoulder. ‘Ambition can be a good thing and I don’t want you to waste your talents, but just remember this, Lowri, it’s not possessions that make your life worthwhile, it’s being with the one you love.’

  She suddenly looked crestfallen and he cursed himself for blundering in so tactlessly. ‘I’m sorry, my dear! I know your chap has vanished and it’s all very upsetting.’ He shook his head. ‘But he wasn’t right for you, he was a liar and worse. Anyway, I’d better be getting back to my office, we don’t want Mrs Jenkins to think we’re slacking, do we?’ He smiled. ‘Oh, yes, I know she’s a bit on the difficult side but she seems to be on top of things.’

  He returned to his office and sank into his chair. He was feeling tired lately, tired of the battle of life. Sally buzzed h
im.

  ‘There’s a call for you, sir, one of the clients.’

  ‘Just say I’m in a meeting and don’t put any calls through until I tell you.’ He turned his chair so that he was looking out of the window. He was an old, dried-up specimen of a man; he had never become the great lawyer he had hoped to be. Instead he had settled for the humdrum and safe practice of conveyancing.

  He would never set the world on fire, as he once thought. He smiled; but, and it was a big but, he had been happy once, a long time ago. He had fallen in love with a beautiful woman, a woman he loved still. That love affair had produced something very special and precious. His daughter, his little girl.

  He reached for his pipe. Wasn’t it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? He supposed so but sometimes, just sometimes, he felt unbearably lonely.

  Lowri walked along the High Street, her step brisk. She was spending the evening with Sally, and this time Timmy would not be tagging along.

  ‘Hey, you’re looking rather snazzy!’ Sally said, greeting her as if she was a long-lost friend. ‘What have you done to your hair? It’s gorgeous!’

  ‘You know why I didn’t come into the office today? I went to Hair Kuts and had it styled. I needed some space.’

  Sally ignored that. ‘And that coat, wow! Turquoise is your colour all right, your skin looks lovely.’ Sally took her arm. ‘Come on, let’s get into the pub, it’s freezing out here, anyone would think it was winter already.’

  They took a seat in an alcove a little way off from the bar and with a sigh Sally eased her high-heeled sandals away from her slender feet.

  ‘How’s Timmy?’ Lowri sipped her wine. ‘Still the ardent lover, is he?’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Sally frowned. ‘He’s been acting very strange lately.’

  ‘Strangely,’ Lowri said. ‘Your grammar is appalling!’

  ‘Oh shut up!’ Sally smiled good-naturedly. ‘Whatever it is, he’s been acting it. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s up to something.’

  ‘What?’

  Sally examined her pristine nails. ‘Another woman, perhaps?’